The anchor of The Gaslight Anthem’s excellent album, The ’59 Sound, is its second and title track, wherein our narrator reflects upon the too-young death of a friend and wonders what the experience of dying is like:
Did you hear the ’59 sound coming through on Grandmama’s radio?
Did you hear the rattling chains in the hospital walls?
Did you hear the old gospel choir when they came to carry you over?
Did you hear your favorite song one last time?
It’s rousing, heartfelt, and heartbreaking, and captures in one cutting sentence the cruel injustice of this world we all live in:
Young boys/young girls–ain’t supposed to die on a Saturday night.
If this was a just world, “The ’59 Sound” would already be considered a classic, and I have enough faith in flawed mankind to believe that someday it will be.
Like “The ’59 Sound,” the song, The ’59 Sound, the album, is bathed deeply in nostalgia. The obvious model is Bruce Springsteen, whose sound and songwriting are consciously mimicked and whose songs are referenced–it’s a concept album that takes place within “Spirit in the Night.” Here, Springsteen, Tom Petty, and Bob Seger constantly play on the radio, with an anachronistic visit from August and Everything After-era Counting Crows:
Maria came from Nashville with a suitcase in her hand
I always kinda sorta wished I looked like Elvis.
(No, you don’t. That bitch is crazy.)
Also on the eternally-playing radio are Miles Davis, Wilson Pickett, and Otis Redding, although those references are less successful because the album doesn’t reflect their sound like it does its classic-rock touchstones.
The ’59 Sound‘s proper listening environment is blaring from the eight-track of the old white Lincoln Continental parked twenty feet away from a late-night beach bonfire, where you listen as you drink a Schlitz. And then again twenty years later, as it plays on the stereo while you and your friends are sitting around the living room reminiscing about that night.
“The ’59 Sound”
(Jason’s review of The ’59 Sound is here. I consciously didn’t read it after he sold me on it so that I could formulate my own thoughts. I hope I haven’t subconsciously plagiarized it.)
Well, this one pissed me off right out the gate. I bought the British import, when no US version had been announced. I was all set to review it when the US version was released, with six different tracks (out of fourteen)–five tracks replacing songs on the UK version, and a different take on “You Can Make Them Like You.” I should have pooped in my copy of the UK version and mailed it back to One Little Indian Records for pulling such a cheap scam. Instead, sucker fanboy that I am, I went out and bought the US version, which I will review instead. I will comment on the UK-only tracks at the end of the review.
OK. Deep breath. Be objective.
On Your Sleeve is a covers album, and covers albums are almost never consistent affairs. If the songs sound just like the originals, there’s no point, but if they’re done dramatically differently, there is a distinct risk of creating something horrible and monstrous.
So, how does this one go? Well, half the fun of a covers album is looking at what songs are covered, so let’s examine this one track by track.
“Leaving Babylon” Original by Bad Brains
The original is way too spacey-reggae for my tastes, and this is a big improvement. While I would never go out of my way to listen to the Bad Brains version, this fleshed-out arrangement manages to unearth the melody that’s buried deep in the original. I never would have thought I would like this song, but I love it. A big winner.
“Me and Julio Down by the School Yard” Original by Paul Simon
A straight-up cover, which doesn’t add anything to the original or subtract much from it. It’s perfectly pleasant, though.
“Sway” Original by The Rolling Stones
“Sway” is one of the most badass songs of all time. This version adds some lame synth and removes all the swagger, threat, and evil. I really don’t understand why anyone thought this was a good idea. If they were going to drop a bunch of tracks for the US market, they should have dropped this one.
Did we really need an ’80s version of “Sway”?
“Russian Roulette” Original by The Lords of the New Church
Nice to see this obscurity dug up. While not dramatically different from the original, the original sounds like shit, so there’s a big improvement right there. Putting the lead guitar hook up front in the mix is another improvement. I’m very happy to have this.
In his liner notes, Malin points out that “I’m putting on weight for the Oscar” is a great line. Yup.
“Walk on the Wild Side” Original by Lou Reed
“Walk on the Wild Side” is one of the most badass songs of all time, although you’re probably sick of it. I know I am. This version adds some lame synth and removes all the atmosphere and sleaze. I really don’t understand why anyone thought this was a good idea. If they were going to drop a bunch of tracks for the US market, they should have dropped this one.
I guess it’s still better than the Marky Mark version.
“You Can Make Them Like You” Original by The Hold Steady (as “You Can Make Him Like You”)
Not as good as the original, but removing the sludge and folking it up a bit make for a fine interpretation anyway. However, this take isn’t as good as the one that was on the UK version (see below).
“Harmony” Original by Elton John
An odd interpretation. The verses are all sneering and dirty-sounding–Malin seems to take at least a partial cue on how to sing “Hello” from the Oasis song–and the chorus sounds like the pop-tastic original, minus the bombast (bombast is not an insult–it’s great in the original). A bunch of effects pedals kick in at the end while he’s determinedly singing “Harmony! Harmony!” I like it, but it’s definitely odd.
“It’s Not Enough” Original by Johnny Thunders
If Jesse Malin hadn’t put a Johnny Thunders song on his covers album, everyone would have known that he really wanted to but didn’t because he was (unfairly) accused of ripping off Johnny Thunders a lot back in the D Generation days. Good for him for including this, a one-minute condensation of a four-minute song. It’s pretty cool.
“Looking for a Love” Original by Neil Young
A propulsive take on a song that probably wasn’t meant for a propulsive take. I initially couldn’t decide if I liked it or didn’t, but after a few listens, I’m leaning towards “like.”
The UK version has this as the first track, which works better than sticking it in the middle of the album.
“Lady From Baltimore” Original by Tim Hardin (as “The Lady Came From Baltimore”)
Tim Hardin wrote some great songs, but he sang them too fast. (Expressing this sentiment would likely get me stoned by folk geeks, if folk geeks were strong enough to lift rocks.) Rod Stewart slowed down the already excellent “Reason to Believe” and turned it into a breathtaking masterpiece. Malin doesn’t nearly do that, but he does slow this down and deliver quite a nice performance.
“Operator” Original by Jim Croce
Pretty straightforward, but well-suited to Malin’s voice. The keyboard is a nice addition, giving some texture to the song. I think I may like this better than the original. I know I like the arrangement better.
“Fairytale of New York” Original by The Pogues with Kirsty MacColl
Is it a good idea to cover one of the most perfect, and perfectly realized, songs of all time? Probably not, but this one almost gets by on sheer enthusiasm. Despite the blasphemy, it made me smile, especially the drunken dialogue at the end. I wouldn’t blame any fan of the original for hating this, but even an iffy rendition of this piece of nirvana can give me goosebumps.
“Hungry Heart” Original by Bruce Springsteen
Malin slows this down a bit, which is a nice touch–in fact, he might should have slowed it down a bit more. Springsteen sounds determined to make wrong decisions; Malin sounds like he’s making excuses for his. I think this is the third record Malin’s put this out on, so I guess he likes it. I like it, too, but maybe not that much.
“Everybody’s Talkin’” Original by Fred Neil, made famous by Harry Nillson
You may think I’m out of my mind, but I swear he found some similarities between this song and Neil Young’s “Thrasher” and had that in mind while arranging and performing this. I have to confess, the link had never occurred to me before I heard this version. Maybe I’m just weird. Anyhow, thumbs up.
Executive summary? On Your Sleeve careens between too similar to the originals or different for better or worse, but on the whole, it’s pretty good. The joy Malin brings to hanging out with his influences for awhile is infectious, making it easy to forgive the occasional stumble.
UK Tracks
The UK version does not include “Leaving Babylon,” “It’s Not Enough,” “Lady From Baltimore,” “Fairytale of New York,” and “Hungry Heart.” As previously mentioned, the version of “You Can Make Them Like You” is different.
“Do You Remember Rock ‘n’ Roll Radio?” Original by The Ramones
I really like this take–it’s more electric than most of the material recorded for the album, and Malin imbues his vocal with mourning, wistfulness, and deep love of music–he’s not a great vocalist, but he infuses this one with nuances that the Ramones just weren’t going to do. It’s a shame it was dropped from the US edition.
“Gates of the West” Original by The Clash
Another one that shouldn’t have been dropped from the US version. This semi-obscure Clash gem works very well with song-speak vocals and heavily strummed acoustic guitar. Needless to say, it doesn’t rock as hard as The Clash, but it’s good on its own. I especially like the conclusion.
“Rodeo Town” Original by The Kills
I had never heard of this song before purchasing the album. I hope Malin decided to record this to give it some publicity and not because he thought he could improve it, because upon digging up the original I discovered that it leaves this version in the dust. I shall investigate The Kills further.
“Wonderful World” Original by Sam Cooke
Malin cannot sing like Sam Cooke. It’s such a beautiful song that it’s probably enjoyable in any rendition, but there had to be better choices out there.
“I Hope I Don’t Fall in Love With You” Original by Tom Waits (as “Hope I Don’t Fall in Love With You”–why can’t Malin get a song title right?)
As with Dylan, Tom Waits’ songs are often just as enjoyable, if different, sung by someone else in a more conventional style. (Certainly it’s easier to listen to those versions around your girlfriend.) This is very suited to Malin’s voice. Nice job.
Why drop it? Was “Walk on the Wild Side” unavailable?
“You Can Make Them Like You” Original by The Hold Steady (as “You Can Make Him Like You”)
This is much better than the version included on the US version, and I don’t understand why Malin recorded it again. I don’t understand a lot of the decision-making behind this dual-release.
Jesse Malin – “Leaving Babylon” (Two minute snoopet only, dammit–why only half the song? Listen to it anyway.):
I often wonder if New Jersey bands get sick of the Springsteen comparisons. Sure, there have been many other notable rock outfits to emerge from the Garden State, but The Boss has always been the gold standard by which all others are measured. Hopefully these comparisons won’t bother Jersey band The Gaslight Anthem, because they’re a huge compliment, and these kids have probably heard them a lot. Much like Born To Run-era Bruce, this young band writes simple songs that tell the stories of youth, of nights spent lamenting lost loves and searching for new ones while cruising the streets and trying to figure out what it all means. I’m willing to bet that the Springsteen references are a hell of a lot preferable to being compared to Bon Jovi.
Like the Manning family is to football, I envision a fantasy rock dynasty in which Bruce Springsteen is the doting, Hall of Famer father, while The Hold Steady are the star older brother that is writing a new chapter in the family legend. If that’s the case, then The Gaslight Anthem would be the sensitive younger brother, for now just as content to sit on the sidelines reading poetry (like James Van Der Beek’s character in Varsity Blues) as stepping onto the field and hearing the roar of the arena. But they have it in them to be great, to emerge like young Eli Manning to show dad and big bro that they too can contribute a thrilling new edition to the family legacy.
Overwrought football analogies aside, one of the stunning things about The Gaslight Anthem’s latest record, The ’59 Sound, is its simplicity. Using tried and true, Clash-inspired punk rock riffs with bluesy undertones, The Gaslight Anthem’s music is both familiar and effortless. Combined with lead singer Brian Fallon’s heart-on-sleeve lyrics about love and loss, you might expect to hear something that treads dangerously close to “emo” territory. But while the emotive sentiment is there, this is not a band of crybabies. They carry in their songs a lightly growling punk swagger that remains assertive without coming off as boastful or whiny like the majority of pop/punk acts today. When Fallon sings in the heartbreaking title track “Young boys, young girls, ain’t supposed to die on a Saturday night,” the listener is more likely to envision a blue collar punk downing beers at a wake than a mop-haired, guy-liner sporting emo brat dropping a lone tear into his mocha latté. That The Gaslight Anthem can pull off such sentimental music without coming off as little bitches is a testament to their respect for classic punk and rock ‘n’ roll.
The album’s songs are a roll call of women past and present, a familiar trope shared with The Boss as well as fellow New Jersey band the Wrens. We hear the stories of Maria, Ann, Virginia, and others, all culminating in the laundry list of ladies lost rattled off in the country-tinged late album track “Here’s Looking At You, Kid,” a sad ballad that imagines how all those girls that broke the narrator’s heart would feel if he were rich and famous now, even though he isn’t. Another common theme carried throughout the record is the identification with the teen culture of the late 50’s/early 60’s, an iconic era that nonetheless was long over before any of the band members were born. The album makes constant reference to old cars (“Old White Lincoln”), old movies (“Film Noir” and “Here’s Looking At You, Kid”), and old music (“High Lonesome”). Despite the Rebel Without A Cause nostalgia, the album always takes itself seriously enough to pull it off without ever venturing into campy “Happy Days” territory. Again, these elements are seamlessly integrated into The Gaslight Anthem’s music, showing that even these most commonly visited themes of teen angst from yesteryear are still relatable and relevant to today’s youth.
It’s great to hear a modern rock band with such a reverence for the past and the common elements that make rock music so effective. There are thousands of bands out there right now who haplessly throw out the same punk chords that can be heard on The ’59 Sound, but the difference is that The Gaslight Anthem make it sound so natural. These songs are not something you would ever hear on the new Guns N’ Roses album (thank God!); no one slaved over a mixing board for over a decade crafting each and every detail of this record. Instead, a band walked into a recording studio and banged out twelve simple rock songs that brilliantly capture the sad sound and rebellious spirit of tortured youth. In reality, it may not have been quite so easy for The Gaslight Anthem, but they sure make it sound like it was.
Pete Bilderback at Flowering Toilet has a fascinating series of posts about dynamic range compression, and how it’s making music sound awful.
It starts here, and it makes sense to at least take a quick look at the graphs before delving too deep into my comments, so that you’ll have a better idea of what I’m talking about.
“You listen to these modern records, they’re atrocious, they have sound all over them. There’s no definition of nothing, no vocal, no nothing, just like — static.”
-Bob Dylan
“Loudness is killing music, and I’m not talking about the 80s Japanese Heavy Metal band.” You’ve probably heard some audiophool, musician or music geek say something like that over the past couple years. But what are they talking about, and what exactly is wrong with loudness?
Loudness is actually a somewhat misleading term…. What is actually going on is that most contemporary pop music is getting all of the dynamic range squashed out of it by means of dynamic range compression. Dynamic range is the difference between the loudest possible undistorted sound and quietest sound that is audible above the noise floor of the recording. Dynamic range compression limits the difference between the loudest and the quietest sounds. Subjectively, compression makes for a louder sounding recording. It is also a practice that is currently being taken to absurd extremes.
The net effect of this is to strip subtlety out and make the music exhausting to listen to, in a manner similar to how some cheaply-recorded albums can be exhausting to listen to–your eardrums just get tired.
While I don’t claim to be an audiophile or anything close, I like to think I’ve got a pretty good ear, and I’ve noticed this, too, without necessarily being aware of the reason. Based on a good review, I bought the Cold War Kids’ self-titled debut. I think I made it all the way through twice, both times in my car with stops along the way. I never made it through uninterrupted. I can’t make cool graphs like Pete’s because I don’t have the right software, but I suspect that if I ran songs from that album through Rip Edit Burn or something similar, I would find that they bore a great resemblance to Pete’s examples. To me, it never sounds like the music ever gets a chance to breathe.
I think one of the best-sounding albums I’ve heard in the past few years is (don’t laugh) Pink’s I’m Not Dead. The single “Who Knew” opens with guitar, then vocal and drums, then bass, each element distinct–they have been allowed to breathe. The song has a soft-loud-soft structure, but it isn’t so ridiculous that you have to turn down the stereo when it hits the loud parts. I wonder how that one would look graphed out? I’ve listened to it straight through many times, and it didn’t exhaust my ears. Maybe I’m way off base, as this is precisely the type of album where one would expect to find a lot of compression. Is this a rare example of sonic restraint in recent pop music? Or just an exceptional production job that overcomes the limitations of excessive dynamic range compression? I’d be interested to find out from someone who knows more on the subject than I do.
If you’re at all interested in this geek stuff, check out the series. It’s quickly getting longer, so if time is limited, start with the inaugural post, followed by the one on Mudcrutch. If you want more, read the piece on Born to Run and proceed from there.
I was thinking about buying the deluxe re-release of Steve Earle’s Copperhead Road. After reading about Born to Run, I’m nervous about doing so. Maybe I’ll just keep my old copy and spend my twenty-five bucks on other albums.
After taking a relatively long time off (from vocal music–he did some soundtracks) after 2004′s Abattoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus two-albums-in-one release, Nick Cave released side-project Grinderman in 2007, followed by Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! with the Bad Seeds in 2008. His prolific streak will continue, as another Grinderman album is planned for early 2009.
Grinderman will also be contributing a Suicide cover to a series of limited-edition releases celebrating Alan Vega’s 70th birthday. (Aside: so will Bruce Springsteen!)
I hope to have reviews of both Grinderman and Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! up soon. In the meantime, here’s Grinderman’s “Honey Bee (Let’s Fly to Mars)” from their debut: